


Amoral

by cobaltdynasty



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode Ignis Verse 2, Fluff and Smut, His Majesty has his way, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married IgNoct, Older IgNoct, Post-Episode Ignis Verse 2, Sexual Content, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 03:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17256830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobaltdynasty/pseuds/cobaltdynasty
Summary: He imagines how Ignis would look if he undoes the belt wrapping just above his hips, the sight of those gorgeous legs reflected on the window pane in front of him. The full view of his kingdom, high up from the Citadel, pales in comparison.





	Amoral

**Author's Note:**

> My gift for @dthjoey on Tumblr for the Ignoct New Years Gift Exchange 2018. Hope you like it! =D Happy new year to you from the newly crowned (and married) royal couple of Lucis. 
> 
> Again, major thanks to JuAtsumi for checking!

\----

 

It is a battle he’s been trying to avoid in his mind, knowing how greedily he had demanded it for the past consecutive nights. He knows he ought to give Ignis a break.

Noctis decides to let it go. For now.

His effort almost futile as Ignis makes his way subtly to slide his fingers softly up Noctis’ thighs, continuing on his massage.

Noctis is tempted to watch and let his husband’s hands roam, but before he reaches him further up his thigh, Noctis stops him. “That’s enough,” Noctis says, grabbing his arms gently. “I’m sure you’re tired too, I’m feeling much better now. Thanks, Iggy.”

Ignis glances at his King and finds him staring back. His gesture returned with a smile. “Anytime, Noct. We should have stopped halfway through today’s training. Why did you keep quiet about the pain?”

“Was I that obvious?”

He blames the cold. First snow is likely to arrive anytime soon, but something in the back of his mind reminds him that the cold is not entirely responsible for the sudden influx of pain in his knee, but rather, the fact that he’d chosen to lose himself in a heated company of his own husband for the last couple of nights, leaving both very much exhausted.

“Very well, Noct. Do let me know should the pain returns.” That smile again, ever there. Non-inviting, yet unreadable, never failing to spark Noctis’ deep desire to break this composure, to have him on that edge of losing his own control.

Ignis moves slowly towards a wall table by the window, gently placing the bottle of oil back onto it.

The jewel of Insomnia lays in front of him, its view obscured on the other side of the glass as fog starts claiming it from floor to ceiling. He cleans up the remains of oil on his hands with a towel, when he feels Noctis’ hands curling around his waist from behind. His chin resting on the taller shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I know you had planned for us to have dinner at that favourite place of yours.”

“There is no need to apologize, Noct.”

It is the King’s turn to smile now, for the gentle care and kindness he's always been spoiled by, amounting into something he can never return. He can’t remember a time in his life before Ignis. The man who has been more than an advisor and trusted friend, much more than a lover. He is the very reason Noctis is still alive, sharing and breathing the same air in this room, their own private chambers.

The smell of coconut oil seeping through the air from the towel on Ignis’ hands, drawing Noctis’ eyes onto them. The scar still prominent, where the cursed power of the ring forms around his finger, next to same golden band Noctis is wearing right now. The scar borne as a sacrifice to the unforgiving Kings who’d gone before him, the price for his fate, a life for a life.

Noctis remembers by heart how it runs continuously further down his neck over the left side of his chest, stopping where his ribcage ends, well hidden underneath the thick layers of councilor’s formal attire by day.

By night, the scar is worshiped in grace, easily one of Ignis’ most beautiful features amongst many others. Noctis loves to lay his head on Ignis’ chest, tracing what remains of his wound with his fingers to feel the continuous heartbeat mirroring his own.

By now, Noctis’ eyes wander greedily to the scar on his lips, he scans their own reflection in the window pane in front of him, focusing his eyes unconsciously further up where another scar forms at the edge of the eyebrow.

Their eyes meet there. Reflections locked in a comfortable silence.

They could’ve stayed like this for hours, watching the first drops of snow falling outside while they stay cocooned in each other’s warmth, far from the reach of grim prophecies.

He takes in his view, as is his right as King, Ignis’ hair ruffled and slightly damp from the shower, cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth in the room. His bare neck, where the skull necklace hangs in the middle, jeweled in between his collarbones, delicately protruding from the muscles underneath.

In the stillness, Noctis refrains every single muscle in his bones, though tired and weary from the day’s demands, yet they seem to have a voice of their own, wanting to free Ignis of his robe hanging loosely on his perfectly framed build.

He remembers the day he’d gifted it to his husband. How he insisted him to put it on the very same night; amoral fascination he felt seeing the contrast of Ignis’ pale skin against the black fabrics, the gold patterns accented at the length of the sleeves and collar, further exuding elegance the way he wore it like a second skin.

He remembers too, how that night ended with Ignis heavily out of breath on top of him, the very same fabric clinging mercilessly at the side of his arms. Noctis laying on his back, not able to take his eyes off the sweat glistening on Ignis’ bare chest, savouring all there is to feel around his hardness buried deep inside the only man he loves.

And while the city sleeps outside in the dark, Noctis imagines how Ignis’ reflection would look if he undoes the belt wrapping just above his hips. Instead, Noctis lets his lips brush lightly against the side of his neck, tickling him with his beard.

Ignis is first to break the silence between them, “What is it, Your Highness?”

“I want you.”

Short, and Noctis’ voice cut off in his own breath, hot, playfully teasing at Ignis’ earlobe with the tip of his tongue.

With that, Ignis realizes of his own awakening ache. A desire they know only Noctis manages to bring out, knowing where his weaker points are and which buttons to push. Yet, to him, Ignis’ body is always full of wonders, baring new territory for him to discover despite their countless sensual endeavors.

Such as the many ways he can make Ignis scream. Noctis is always torn between wanting to hear louder moans escaping from his lips and keeping his lewd voices to himself, as addictive as they are for his ears. Because Ignis is his, and only his.

He starts working his hands through the openings of his robes, sliding his fingers in to tease the flat nipples as they respond quickly to his touch. He likes placing his palm there, absorbing the warmth of his torso, finding again where his scars begin underneath the teasing garment.

Despite the warmth of the room, Ignis shudders lightly, his nipples now bead tight at the cold touch. But, Noctis’ breath against his ear is anything but.

“Can I?” Noctis’ voice raspy, full of desperation Ignis knows he can barely contain.

Noctis’ impatience rising, it has taken all his control not to press Ignis’ wrists up against the window and take him there and then.

Ignis has known this was coming, again tonight, even though he’s already seen the man behind him giving in to lust for the past eight days or so. Perhaps his last diplomatic trip away from Insomnia has taken a toll on him. It was the longest time spent without each other's company since dawn returned. Perhaps he misses his touch so much.

Yet, it is one of the many sweet things he loves about his King. Despite his authority and power, Noctis never lets go of his gentle demeanor. As King, he needs no permission, but he has never been one to push, and Ignis has never been one to refuse.

Internally, Ignis curses the thin fabric separating their skin. The only thing between him and Noctis’ erection, brushing and growing hard against him.

“Noct,” Ignis tries to distract him in the hope that the King agrees to move to a more appropriate position. “Your Highness,” his body conflicting and intoxicated, “perhaps we shouldn’t put more strain on your knee.”

Ignis continues, “Let’s head to bed, shall we?” But, it was all the approval Noctis needs to let the beast inside him take over.

“No.” His voice stern, not bothering to listen to his much needed advice. “I’ll take you however I want.” A clear audible command that he wants it there and then, as he lets his other hands squeezes through the firm flesh towards his hips.

Much to Noctis’ surprise, he finds nothing obscuring his fingers, reaching for his husband’s full arousal at length, craving the very same touch he is now giving. He parts the fabric sideways, taking his time to look at the sight of those gorgeous legs reflected on the window pane in front of him. The full view of his kingdom, high up from the Citadel, pales in comparison.

“You’re not wearing any underwear.” Ignis can’t help but blush at Noctis’ remarks, knowing that this turns him on.

The sudden touch of Noctis’ fingers around his head makes a startled moan escape from Ignis’ mouth, his skin needing them much more than the air he’s deprived of.

“Not.. here-,” is all Ignis manages to say as his own body betrays him. His rapidly paced with each second as Noctis denies him the chance to protest under his own pleasure. He closed his fist around it, sliding his thumb over the slit, indulging himself in the sounds coming out of his advisor’s lips. 

Ignis slowly felt the world around him blurring under the touch of his King. He could feel the tension in his own body growing, sharp as his body starts to curve backwards onto Noctis.

It is something Noctis always longed to see. His husband’s control crumbling slowly as he drinks in the sight of Ignis tilting his head backwards onto his shoulder, the long nape of his neck bared in his own reflection in front of him.

Noctis grabs a hold of the bottle on the table beside him, knowing well it the same oil previously used on his own body. He pours adequate amount of it onto his fingers before pushing it gently into Ignis’ tight opening. A second and third finger has Ignis clenching more, louder moans escape him through his ragged breath. Ignis feels his thighs tighten, unable to resist the flesh sensation as Noctis hits on that sweet spot only he knows where to find.

“You want this, Iggy.” Noctis whispers low against his ear.

Their gaze meet again through the reflection, despite the window now coated partially in fog, Noctis’ eyes bore onto him with pulsating carnality, stripping him down with his gaze that he is left breathlessly begging through his moans.

Noctis slowly draws up his fingers further up his chest, Ignis’ jaw sharp in the cup of his hands, as he inserts his thumb over the warmth of Ignis’ lips.

“Mmmh-“ He sucks on it, Noctis’ cock twitches at the sight. He feels it against him as Noctis presses harder against the fabric.

“What is it? I can’t hear you.” Never once did the King break their eye contact.

Noctis knows he wants it. And, he knows Noctis knows it too.

Ignis is desperately trying to convey his urge as he continues to suck. But, Noctis keeps demanding more of his husband, urging him to fight for words through his breath, hot against his wet thumb. He wants them to come out of Ignis’ mouth, the same beautiful mouth his husband uses to speak of lethal tactics and ruthless pragmatism.

“Say it,” his command barely a whisper, in a tone so unforgiving under his illicit touch that has Ignis shivering in the King’s arms, his fingers deep inside him but Ignis feels they are nowhere near enough.

“Noct, I need you-“ his voice trembled at this own plea, “Inside me, now- please-“

The King smiles, satisfied at their own game of lust. “Yes, I’m always yours, Iggy.”

Noctis pours more of the oil onto his hand the moment he took his fingers out. Applying it on his own eager cock, before he pushes himself into Ignis’ in one slow powerful thrust. The movement sends sharp pains to his knee he bulges forward, sending Ignis pinned slightly against the window.

“Noct, not here-“ Ignis says, even though he’s aware of their position high up in the tallest building in the city. A palace above every home, tinted windows giving them their much needed privacy. “People can see-”

“Let them see.” Noctis cuts him off, his thrust rougher and deep, but his kiss against Ignis’ neck gentle, as soft as his voice finding joy in teasing. “Let them see that you’re mine.”

Panic washes over him for a split second, but Ignis can’t explain how the act sends his libido soaring than what he thought possible. His undying devotion in full display, knowing how well his King finds pleasure only in him. To be claimed and owned solely, to be marked by lust.

It sends a shiver down his leg, Ignis has to grab onto the long curtain draping at the side of the large window. Clinging desperately for support, Noctis’ weight against him, his other hand on the window smearing a small part of it clear of fog, or else his legs might give way.

There is no noticeable change in Ignis’ expression when the sleeves of his robes fall onto his arms at his sides. The bare of his back trembling as he is consumed further by the heat of their friction. Thighs against thighs, their sweat-damp hair swaying in the same rhythm as their bodies unite in one.

Noctis’ hands now moving in full strokes around Ignis’ cock as he continues to pumps deeper into him. His fingers wet with traces of Ignis’ essence pooling at the tip. He wants Ignis to drown in the same ecstasy. The alternating soft kisses and rough bites on Ignis’ shoulders are meant to be just that, a way of Noctis surrendering himself to the sensation he felt throughout his erection, swallowed fully inside Ignis’ warm tightness.

He is not far now.

Noctis can also tell how close Ignis is to his own climax. The subtle twitch in his exposed shoulder blades as he digs his fingers deeper into the curtain drapes, as if it is the only thing keeping him from standing. It's never been a way of words between them, but intangible language of moans letting him know that he’d hit the right spot.

And, it takes just one small moment for Noctis to whisper against his ear, to shatter his control.

“Come for me, Iggy.”

And he does. Noctis’ name on his lips. Upon hearing this, Noctis lets go of himself as he comes, hard, his fingers digging painfully into Ignis’ hips for balance, while his other hand continues to stroke Ignis’ cock, emptying his full content into the mess he’s made over the pristine window.  Noctis’ own mess, slick and thick, as he pulls out from deep inside of Ignis.

He lets his surrounding return to him slowly, pulse still rapid. His forehead resting over their sweat on the back of Ignis' neck, kissing the dampness gently. Noctis stumbles on his first step back. Pain stinging in his knee as his euphoria subsides.

“You ought to give that knee a rest, Your Highness.” Ignis helping him back on his posture, despite his own legs currently screaming at the thought of standing still.

Realizing he has Ignis’ eyes on him now, the kind that says  _I told you so_ , Noctis replies, “Says someone who’s made a mess of the room?”

Ignis chuckles, and draws his eyes back to the ruined window, taking a mental note to personally clean them when he regains his strength.

“I’m going to need some help walking to the bed.”

Ignis sighs under his smile.

Cleaning can wait.

  

-FIN

 

[Tumblr@ignoctgiftexchange](https://ignoctgiftexchange.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter@ignoctgiftexch](https://twitter.com/ignoctgiftexch)

 

**Author's Note:**

> FFXV and their characters do not belong to me! Praise (or blame) Square Enix for my rather unhealthy obsession.


End file.
